The Ones Who Write to Breathe: Why I Miss Blogging More Than I Miss Anything Else

Zahra Khan
2 days ago
3 min read

Because some thoughts are safer on a blank page than in a crowded room.

Blogging is my safe place. My playground. My sanctuary. My real home on the internet. Somewhere along the chaos of work, business, life, expectations, guilt, healing, and endless deadlines… I realized I miss blogging more than I miss free time, hobbies, or even weekend plans.

There is something beautifully strange about sharing your soul with strangers online. It’s easier than opening up to people you actually know. Maybe because strangers don’t project, don’t interrupt, don’t judge with history. They just read. They receive. They might relate. And honestly? That’s enough.

There’s a word for people like us, we’re called “logophiles.”

People who find healing in words, people who write because talking doesn’t hit the same, people who feel more seen through paragraphs than conversations.

Writing relieves something in me that speaking can’t touch. Some things can’t be said out loud. Some things can only be written. And no, I'm not a paragraph texter!

Six Years of Showing Up for Myself

a woman looking through a glass door shook

I started blogging in 2020 out of boredom.

Let me repeat that: boredom.

But boredom turned into habit, habit turned into healing, and healing turned into discipline.

And now I’m heading into year six in 2026. Six years of crafting a space on the internet that didn’t exist before me. Six years of showing up even when nobody was watching.

Only recently did I start getting 100+ organic readers a month. No ads. No viral cheat code. Just consistency and intention.

And you know what? That means more to me than a random viral moment ever will. Because my website is mine. Something I built from scratch, credibility, voice, identity, everything. It’s proof that discipline pays off in ways applause never could.

Someone once said:

“How you act when no one’s watching is who you really are.”

That line punched me in the throat because… why am I genuinely better when I’m alone?

Why is my purest self the one sitting in front of a keyboard instead of a room full of people?

Maybe it’s because writing is where I don’t shrink.

Writing is where I don’t pretend.

Writing is where I meet the real me.

This Year Was Long, and So Am I

2025 felt like three years in one. I still have unfinished stories sitting in drafts from last year, moments I lived but never wrote, emotions that were too raw to turn into sentences.

Maybe one day I’ll finish them. Or maybe some stories are meant to stay between me and Allah, living quietly inside my memory.

And next year… I’ll be 28. How? When?

I used to think 28 was ancient. Now I’m standing next to it and honestly? I feel 25. Maybe. On a good day.

Age is just a number, but becoming Me - the version of me I always imagined, that’s the real journey. Authentic. Funny. Original. Rooted. A woman who inspires her past self and gives hope to the next generation.

Would I Make a Good Mental Coach?

Here’s the thing: I’ve been through things that shaped me quietly. I’ve learned lessons slowly. I’ve built a mentality that carried me farther than privilege, luck, or connections ever could.

Sometimes I genuinely think…Should I start a mental coaching practice?

Because wallahi, this generation is LOST. People don’t need 100 tips. They need someone who actually gets them, someone who knows what mental obstacles feel like up close, someone who can help rewire the way they think so they can breathe again.

Most people aren’t stuck because life is hard, they’re stuck because their mindset is.

If I can help shift that?

If I can help someone become the version of themselves they haven’t met yet?

That would be worth everything.